


We Are The Spark

by Spoofymcgee



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/F, F/M, Force-sensitive Padme, Gen, Jedi Padmé Amidala, M/M, Senator Anakin Skywalker, Shmi Skywalker is Awesome, Tatooine Is Free, order 66 what order 66
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24995203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoofymcgee/pseuds/Spoofymcgee
Summary: yes, i know that's a quote from the sequels, but i don't care.baseline information: padme's force-sensitive, anakin is not, there is no chosen one prophecy, padme grew up in the creche since she was a baby.beru whitesun is the most awesome character, i love her.this is for that one tumblr post about senator anakin/jedi padme, where everything is the same except that. it's not all actually the same because the shmi decided to lead a slave revolt and padme wanted to bring cookies to aayla, and who am i to stop them from such noble quests?
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker, Barriss Offee/Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala & CT-7567 | Rex, Padmé Amidala & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 12
Kudos: 109





	We Are The Spark

Shouts ring that night in the streets of Mos Espa. This has been a long time coming, and the planning, well, that began decades ago. Shmi Skywalker stands tall, wind trying to whip sand into her eyes, sliding off her tough clothes and the crude helmet tucked under her arm. She surveys the city, and the corner of her mouth turns up in a smile. She'd worried that her companions, her army, would take it to far, that slavers would burn in their homes tonight. She should have known to trust them.   
The former slaves have taken the first settlement quickly and quietly. The spaceport has been shut down, with the exception of the leaving offworlder ships. They have no business in this new city. All of the slavers have been rounded up by her soldiers with the aid stolen blasters. Kithla Daani, one of her soldiers, had stolen a jammer from one of her former master's clientele, which Shmi's little son, who had only seen five years, had boosted to cover the entirety of Mos Espa. The people had held back, had not slaughtered the slavers and traders one and all as some had wanted to.   
Now they rejoiced in the roads, celebrating their very first victory. The slaves of Mos Doba, Bestine and Mos Zabu had all liberated themselves that day as well. So much effort, so many hours and risks and _lives_ , for those who were caught and died rather than revealing anything.  
"Mom?" And, of course, all worth it so their children would grow up free. "You all right?"  
"Yes, Ani. I'm just fine." Shmi lifts her son, so small still, and bony, to settle on him on her hip. There was more to do still, of course. They still had seven major cities to unfetter, a democracy to organize, they had to figure out what to do with the slavers, track down the little settlements all over the planet and-and- but that would all happen in it's time. For now...   
"General Skywalker?"  
"Good evening, Nar'ala," Shmi greets the Twi'lek woman as she joins her by the balcony. One of Shmi's few commanders for her silent army, handpicked for the fire in her eyes, blazing with the same intensity as Shmi's own, with the capability to set the galaxy afire. "Is there an issue?"  
"No, just that we've gotten through to Bestine, finally. There were some minor issues there, and a good part of the slavers are dead, something to do with dissenters and planted thermal detonators, but they've been taken into custody now. General Kryto wants to know what you'd like to do with them." Shmi sighs, shifting Ani.   
"Have them kept under supervision, and they won't be allowed to participate in anything. Make sure they're kept in decent conditions, fed and given civilized treatment. Nar'ala?"  
"Yes, general?"  
" _They are not to be harmed_." Shmi stresses. "Under any circumstances. That is not how we treat other sentients, even such as they are." The other woman nods.   
"Understood. And Shmi?" The Twi'lek woman asks. "Thank you. You're the best leader any of us could have asked for." Shmi smiles.  
On that night, history switches it's course. From the outside, the army is one of slaves, beaten, ragged and rebelling. In truth, they are Tatooine. These people are of sun and sand, relentless as the beating winds, focused as the light's burning rays and fighting for freedom with the intensity of the desert heat. They are the spark that will start the fire to burn the impurities away, leaving only the clear glass of Tatooine as it should be. As it will be. 

They all quiet as Shmi stands, the entire room of babbling representatives from nearly every settlement on the planet. She knows all of these people, has built a society from ruins and blood and _freedom_ with them.   
"I would like Governor Cr'thyala, and only Governor Cr'thyala, to explain what exactly the issue is." She says quietly, cuttingly.   
"We have raiders attacking our oil transports to Khuriya," And even after two whole years, hearing the name of their capital brings Shmi back to the heady feeling of the freedom it is named after. "And we believe they are the tribe Governor Mykrath hunted from Quya."   
"And the point?" He splutters slightly. "Cr'thyala, if you're accusing your fellow governor of something, I should like to hear you say it properly." He looks subdued, struggling to find the correct words. "I think the best solution in this case would be for Quya to provide Ghyra Mharahn with their spare guards to help protect the transports, as I've understood that they have at least twenty currently inactive. Is this agreeable?" Both governors nod, and Shmi checks the chronometer, forcing herself to ignore the date on the Assembly room wall. "Now, if that's all for today, we'll adjourn the meeting."  
She takes a deep breath, turning to look at the building as she exits it. It's been two years since their first victory in the former Mos Espa. Tatooine has arranged itself into a manageable democracy. She hadn't wanted to lead, and they'd insisted that was exactly why she should. So she'd accepted the role with no further protest, and it weighed on her, even if seeing the planet change with her help alleviated that somewhat. A symbol of their persistence, the building stretched taller than the rest, black patterns of broken chains built into it's walls. They'd finished the first section of applying to join the Republic a month ago, which was a relief, though the process would likely take years more. She closed her eyes, finally letting the knowledge that this was once more the anniversary of the day she'd first taken a life. The feel of the blaster in her hands, the sight of the Hutt lying on the floor, body shot through with dozens of holes, she would never forget. She didn't feel guilty, but all the same, it was a good practice to remember whose blood she had on her hands. She opened her eyes. Enough. She'd remembered and that was enough. She'd done it, and probably the galaxy was a better place for the absence of Jabba. The Hutt Clan believed that they'd been killed by the rancor he kept in his palace, and had left Tatooine alone, hearing the rumors of the slaves turned warriors of sand and fire. Shmi laughed to herself. They'd always been that, they had simply started to show it outwardly as well. Tatooine had been the spark that started the fire of freedom; their population had grown exponentially in the past couple of years, nearly all self-liberated slaves.

"Rayiias Shmi Skywalker." The governor of Khuriya introduced her as she slides off the speeder, lifting Ani off to stand next to her. She looks to the horizon, to the large silver ship in the distance. She recognizes the make, it's a J-type 327 Nubian starship, but modified. She turns her attention back to the two people in front of her.   
"President Skywalker, in Basic, Master Jedi." She greets the tall man, then turns to the girl. "And..."  
"Initiate Naberrie." She says.   
"We're looking for parts to repair our ship." The Jedi says, and she glances back to her son, who's staring at both the visitors in rapt fascination.   
"I believe we can help you there." Shmi smiles, and beckons them to return to the city.   
  
The girl's name is Padme, and she's staring in wide-eyed wonder, all of twelve, at the clean, bustling streets around them.   
"This is much different than I remember Tatooine being. I was under the impression that your planet was controlled by the Hutts." The Jedi remarks.   
"It was. No longer. And if you mean it's not a cesspool of slavery and trafficking, then yes, it's rather different." Shmi replies frankly, and the initiate makes a very unladylike sound that's similar to a snort. "I used to be a slave. Most of us did. We freed ourselves, and made it clear to everyone involved in the slave trade that they had no place on this planet anymore." The man hums, and soon enough they arrive at the mechanic shop.  
"Salunika's the only one on planet with a T-14 generator. Ani, would you mind going to find Partieria and Miklota for me?" She asks her son, who nods, and bolts off, stopping around the corner as she knew he would to excitedly gossip about the visitors with some friends. She turns to the two.   
"Why is the queen here?" Shmi asks Padme, who frowns at her.   
"Our ship is damaged." She answers slowly.   
"How did it get damaged?" Shmi questions, walking backwards so she can see their faces.  
"We were exiting the blockade the Trade Federation has on Naboo to seek help from the Republic on Coruscant, and our ship was hit." The girl answers, and Shmi frowns, filing this away for later consideration.   
"Hm. Well, come on. This is the shop."  
  
It's nearly an hour afterward when a little Dug enters the shop, beckoning Shmi down and whispering into her ear for a good two minutes or so. She frowns, deep lines appearing on her forehead.  
"Are you sure?" She asks, and the Dug nods.   
"He cut Sandrunner's arm clean off," They tell her. "Kept deflecting the blaster bolts, so Captain Whitesun threw a thermal detonator at him. Dead, they're fairly sure. Don't think Zabrak's can live without their heads."   
"What happened?" Qui-Gon asks, coming up behind her.   
"Apparently some ship landed unauthorized just out of the city, and the Zabrak in it tried to murder the group the security force sent out to intercept him. They blew him up, as you heard. Beru's a little protective of her officers, and sometimes jumps the gun. But it sounds like he was a serious threat, and she's very good at her job." She explains.  
"Ignored all the warnings," The Dug adds. "Was deflecting all the blaster bolts with some kinda red plasma sword." This catches the Jedi's attention.  
"Red?" He asks, alarmed.  
"That's what they tell me. Gone, though, in the explosion." They lope off, returing to the precinct building to deliver the next message, leaving Qui-Gon visibly disturbed, Padme even moreso.   
  
They talk, while the mechanics are fixing the ship. Padme has many questions, and Shmi happily talks about her planet, her people.   
"But why aren't you part of the Republic?" The young woman asks, and Shmi sighs.  
"We want to be. The application process takes an incredibly long time, and the Senate apparently has about four decades worth of backlogged issues." Padme startles.   
"That much? Really?"  
"Unfortunately. Some of the governors have voiced concern about joining something so apparently ineffective, but ultimately the protection it would offer outweighs that. We've had too many deaths to pirates and the like." Padme frowns, and Shmi can hear the gears turning in her head.   
"Hm..."  
Someone calls Shmi away, and Padme's immediately surrounded by a small crowd of children demanding stories about the Jedi. She happily supplies them, sitting legs crossed on the sand and educating them about Force sensitives and their role in the galaxy.  
  
Shmi darts to Padme before they leave, pressing a long distance comm link into her hand.  
"Promise me you'll call if they can't help." She demands, and Padme hesitates before nodding.  
"I'll give this to the queen. I promise, we'll call if we need help."  
"Bye, Padme!" Anakin shouts, and runs up to hug her around the waist.   
"Goodbye, Ani." She says, and some of the premature lines in her countenance ease.  
  
Tatooine's fleet of starships attack the Trade Federation blockade while the Gungans, whose help Queen Lanaera had enlisted to fight the droid army below. Little Ani, Shmi's own son, steals a ship and flies with them, and in the end he is the one to blow up the control ship. They make it out with a miraculous two fatalities. With the skeleton of the Sith apprentice-who might have, in a different universe, lured Qui-Gon to his death on a cold metal floor deep in the maze beneath Theed-but a charred husk being bleached white by the twin suns of Tatooine, Jinn lives past Naboo.   
The planet thanks Tatooine for it's aid, and offers agreements for closer collaboration in the future, which the latter gladly accepts. 

Padme winces as she accidentally knocks into a ceiling lamp, and it makes a ridiculously loud noise. The Halls of Healing really need to invest in quieter light fixtures, for the sake of Initiates misusing the Force to float themselves above the floor and sneak in. Or, more often, out. Logically, she knows this is the coma ward, that's why she chose it, but she still looks 'round to make sure everyone is asleep. All of them still are, of course, except for one pair of bright blue eyes staring up at her.  
"Hello, Padawan." Knight Kenobi greets her, and Padme mutters a quiet string of words a good Jedi initiate should most definitely not know. She drops to the floor, landing with a soft thud, and gets to her feet. "Nice to see you again."  
"This is the coma ward." She tells him flatly. "You should be unconscious."   
"Well, if that's how you feel-"  
"Why are you awake?" She cuts off his mock guilt trip.  
"I woke a few hours ago, and the healers, in all their limitless wisdom, have not seen fit to move me yet." He replies. Padme considers this for a moment, then nods.   
"I'm not a Padawan." She tells him. He frowns.   
"But aren't you-" He cuts off at her sharp nod. So she's about to age out. They'll likely send her to the MediCorps, whose ranks need replenishing after taking a bad hit in some war in the Outer Rim. A slight tugging from the Force accompanies this thought, and he opens himself up to receive whatever message it's trying to communicate. He flinches hard as it shouts _'No!'_ in his mind. 'No.' It repeats more softly, and recalls for him his own feelings at being sent away. He frown again, harder, and decides to buy himself some time as she shifts her container from one arm to the other. "What's that?" She startles a little.  
"Um, well," Biting her lip guiltily, she squirms. "You know how Master Mundi's wives send him care packages whenever he's at the temple?" Obi-Wan nods, raising a single brow. "Well, he shares them with the initiates sometimes, and my friend became a padawan a few months ago and, well, she really likes the cookies, but I'm not great at baking, and she was injured on her first mission with her master, and..." Padme trails off, staring at him belligerently, as though daring him to reprimand her. Obi-Wan finds himself smiling.  
"Would your friend perhaps be Padawan Aayla Secura, apprentice to Knight Quinlan Vos?" She looks a bit surprised, before schooling her features back to indifference.   
"Yes. How did you know?" A hint of curiosity slips into her voice all the same.   
"Classic Quinlan, getting his padawan injured on their first mission. Well, Initiate Amidala, I won't inform the healers of your presence here." Her shoulders slump in relief. " _If_ you'll join me for early meal tomorrow."   
"Sure." She agrees, looking bemused. "Why?"  
"Come and see." He smiles mysteriously, and the door creaks open. He blinks, and Padme's gone. Somewhere in his chest, he feels a tiny spark of warmth, and knows it's of the kind that start fires.

"I brought Panna cakes with carbosyrup and zoochberries." Padme announces, appearing behind Obi-Wan's shoulder. It takes all his self-control not to jump at her sudden arrival. "From Dex's. That's the diner you like, right?" He nods.  
"I-yes, how did you know? Wait-how did you get out of the Temple?"   
"I asked Knight Eerin. She told me that you prefer syrup to bantha butter, and warned me to, and I quote; 'Stay the kriff away from everyone else who says they know Obi, they're all kriffing insane.'" Padme hands Obi-Wan one carefully prepared tray of food, pulling over a chair to sit at his bedside and smile beatifically up at him before digging into her own. He shakes his head, grinning slightly. Bant is clearly trying to get back at him for not stopping Quinlan from stealing all the pictures in her quarters and replacing them with various pictures of a shirtless Master Fisto. Padme studiously ignores his second question, and he decides that plausible deniability is worth remaining in the dark.   
They eat in silence for a few minutes and the time after that discussing various random, mundane topics. She tells him about the types of pranks initiates pull these days, and he regales her with tales of Quinlan's mishaps.   
Soon enough, they've both finished eating, and he places his tray to the side.   
He sits up straighter, shoulders pulling back and meets her gaze to ask the question behind this entire meeting.   
"Initiate Naberrie, how would you feel about becoming my padawan?" She freezes, going completely still. Obi-Wan reaches out a hand, brows furrowed, apology on the tip of his tongue, but she's gone. Her tray clatters to the floor, and he glances around in confusion, then sighs. "Well then."

Padme's always liked this view of the Temple gardens. She'll miss it, when they ship her off to the MediCorps. And that's most definitely what they're going to do with her, now that she blew her one chance at being a padawan. Pride won't let her go back, won't let her say please Knight Kenobi, I would really like to be your apprentice, even though I'm clearly a big kriffing coward and ran away when you asked me, but please, sir, won't you take me anyway. She laughs derisively. Yeah, right.   
There's a soft thud next to her, and Padme starts, banging her chin on her knee.   
"Apologies, I didn't mean to startle you." It's Knight Kenobi, sitting on the ledge next to her, legs hanging off the side, wrapped in matching blue bacta patches, healing his fractured tibiae. "Your friend, Padawan Secura, apparently heard what happened from one of the healers, hunted me own and informed me in no uncertain terms that if I didn't go find you then she would... Well, let's just say it was a very graphic threat, one I probably shouldn't repeat."  
"How did you _get_ up here?" She demands, still shellshocked. He grins mischievously, swinging his bandaged legs.   
" _Very_ improper use of the Force." He answers, and she giggles. He falls serious. "I know that I'm probably not the ideal master, and I wouldn't blame you if you don't want to be my padawan learner-"  
"But I do!" She protests, cutting him off. He frowns, and she looks a little sheepish, but barrels on. "I really do. I think... I think we could work well together."  
"So do I." He tells her.  
"You surprised me though, I was so convinced no one wanted to take me as an apprentice. And then you offered. I-" She falls silent, shoulders slumping. She scrubs a hand over her eyes. "You don't want me anyway."There's a pause, and he shifts closer.   
"But I do." He tells her softly. "I didn't ever consider taking a padawan this early, but when you accompanied Master Jinn and myself to Naboo I was amazed at the level of self control in an initiate, and yet there was the fire of stars in your eyes. If you don't want to, you don't have to accept, but I'd be incredibly honored to have you as my apprentice, Padme Naberrie." She considers this for a moment.  
"You really mean it?"  
"With all my heart." He tells her. And it's like clouds were covering the sun, and they've slipped away. Her entire face lights up with happiness.  
"In that case, I'd be honored to accept." She replies. They both grin, and then someone bellows from down the hallway.  
"OBI-WAN KENOBI!" Master Healer Vokora Che yells, storming down the corridor. "Get back in your bed this second, unless you want me to sedate you for a week until your legs are completely healed!" He pales, turning frantically to Padme.  
"Help me!" He whisper-shouts, and she grins, grabbing his arm and launching both of them off the ledge to land herself gently on the ground, and Obi-Wan in the hoverchair floating nearby.   
"I'm terribly sorry Healer Che, Master Obi-Wan came after me to make sure I was okay."Padme says smoothly.  
"Master?" The Twi'lek asks, raising a brow. As far as she knows, Kenobi is a Jedi _Knight_.  
"Vokora, I'd like you to meet my new padawan." He answers with an unhealthily big grin. She surveys the pair for a few moments, then smiles.  
"Congratulations." She tells them. "Now get in bed, Kenobi, or else I'll get the younglings to shave your head." He flinches, and Padme laughs. There's a spark, and a different, darker universe goes up in flames, burning to ashes.

"And... Padme! It's wonderful to see you again! The years have only added to your beauty." Senator Skywalker enthuses, bowing at the waist in greeting. He's already acknowledged Obi-Wan. Padme represses the urge to roll her eyes, and tucks both hands into her sleeves instead, bowing in return.   
"It's an honor, senator." She replies, keeping her voice from going flat and sarcastic. She focuses on keeping exactly one point three feet to the left and behind of Obi-Wan, and then sitting completely still the same distance away on the couch. It keeps her distracted from the newfound realization that, wow, okay, apparently tall, tanned, and sun-bleached blond is very much her type. This is not good. This is bad. She can not develop a crush on the Senator.   
_Too late._ Her heart says. Kriff.   
"-adme?" Her head snaps up at the sound of her name.   
"Sorry." She murmurs.  
"Are you alright, padawan?" They're alone in the room, Senator Skywalker having retired to his quarters. For a moment she considers telling him, and discards the notion almost immediately.  
"Fine, master. I happen to dislike this idea of the senator's, using himself as bait, though I'd likely be able to sense should anything happen." He frowns, but accepts her answer for now. She sighs, running a hand through her short padawan cut, and trailing fingers down the long braid tucked behind her ear. They stand in silence for a moment more, and then Obi-Wan stiffens, and dashes for Anakin's room, pulling out his lightsaber. Padme follows suit, and her yellow blade cuts through both worms as the young man bolts upright, sheets falling off his bare chest. Padme closes her lightsaber as her master smashes through the window, grabbing the droid as it flies off. She groans, staring after him and then glancing back at Anakin, who hasn't moved, and sighs, wondering if she can make it to the speeder before him.

She can't. Doing her best not to pay attention him as she positions herself to catch Obi-Wan, she keeps up a mental tirade of exactly what she'd like to say to him.   
"Padme! Why in the name of the Force would you bring the senator?!" Her master yells from where he's clinging to the back of the speeder.   
"Believe me, Master!" She shouts back, as Anakin presses himself against her side to make room for Obi-Wan. Heat prickles all over the right side of her body, where Anakin's crushed against her. "This isn't my idea of a good time either!"  
She flips, turns, and dives, ignoring Obi-Wan telling her to pull up. She allows herself to grin, waiting a few more seconds before listening.   
"You know I don't like it when you do that!" He complains, clutching at the armrest.  
"You don't like flying, Master Kenobi?" The senator asks, shifting slightly.  
"I don't mind flying, but this is just suicide!"   
"Oh, it's not that bad-aw, kriff!" Padme swears.  
"Padawan! How many times have I told you to-" He cuts off as they hit the purple energy, and it crackles along the speeder, shocking them all. "Stay away from power couplers!" He finishes.

"Where are you going, Padme?!" Obi-Wan shrieks over the traffic. "He went that way!"  
"Shortcut, master!" She yells back. "I hope." She slows the speeder, and he begins grumbling.  
"That was some shortcut, Padme. Why, for once in your life, can't you-"  
"If you'll excuse me, master." She interrupts, before leaping out of the speeder, leaving Skywalker at the controls. Obi-Wan leans over the side to stare at her plummeting form.  
"I hate it when she does that." He mutters.

"I hate this idea of hiding." Anakin strides across the room, still in the clothes of a Tatooinian senator; a sand colored, sleeveless shirt of tough material and wide pants of a dark crimson, tied on both legs just below his knees. The scuffed, brown, synthleather boots are fine, but he needs to change to refugee clothing.  
"It won't take Master Obi-Wan long to find the assassin." She tells him calmly. "I have complete faith in his abilities."   
"I didn't work for a year to stop the Military Creation Act, not to be here to represent my people when it's fate is decided!" He protests, shoving seemingly random objects into a suitcase.   
"You won't do any good to your people dead!" She snaps. He grins.  
"You're right, of course." His entire demeanor has changed, and he grabs the simple pants and tunic on the table, striding into the fresher with them. She sighs, shoulders slumping. This is much too confusing.

"Mom!" Anakin cries, flying off the ship into the waiting arms of a short, dark-haired woman Padme had met before, and recognizes as Tatooine's leader.   
"Rayiias Skywalker." She greets, bowing.  
"Mom, you remember Padme, right?" Anakin says, bouncing slightly.   
"Of course." Shmi replies, turning to her. "It's good to see you again." Padme smiles, dipping her head.   
"And you as well, president."  
"I trust my son didn't spend the entire trip sulking?" Shmi asks as they walk towards her home, where they'll be staying while on Tatooine. Padme laughs at Anakin's pouting expressing.   
"Not the entire trip." She says.

They stay up late that night, long past when Shmi has gone to bed. Anakin turns out to be very knowledgeable about a great many things, nearly matching Padme's own impressive memory. They talk about politics, about the Jedi, about philosophy. Padme shares stories of her missions with Obi-Wan, including one particular team up with her friend Aayla and her master, which leaves Anakin rolling on the floor in laughter.  
_"So we were separated, our commlinks long gone, and, of course, as always with Obi-Wan, that wasn't even the worst bit. I offered to check what was below the cliff, because I wasn't the one with a broken ankle. He insisted, tripped, and guess what there was under it? A nest of gundarks, just like I'd said."_  
He tells her about the Senate, about his causes, about the time he got into a fist fight with the senator from Dantooine.  
_"He says: "Anakin, my boy, I heard you punched the senator from Dantooine in the face." In this dissapointed tone, like he's my dad or something. And I go: "Of course not, Chancellor. I would never do that." And he looks all relived, and starts to say: "Good, I was hoping the rumors were wrong, that would be very-" And I interrupt him, and say: "I punched him in the_ stomach _, and_ headbutted _him in the face."  
_He tells her about how his mother was almost kidnapped by raiders a month ago, how scared he was. She confesses her fear for Obi-Wan sometimes, how un-Jedi-like the emotion is.   
And then he tells her. He flirts terribly, but it's adorable to see him stammer over his words, turning red. His cheeks are warm against her own, lips exactly as soft as she'd wondered if they were. Pulling back, she doesn't let herself think on how Obi-Wan would react if he could see her. The Order didn't forbid love, forbid romance, but it was highly frowned upon, as he'd taught her. She ignores all of that, and dives back in for another kiss. 

"Kamino, master?" She asks the holoprojection of Obi-Wan the next day. "I've definitely heard of it. I'm fairly sure I did a report on it as an initiate. It was in the archives then. Something feels wrong about this."  
"I agree." His voice is tinny, and she shifts, meeting Anakin's gaze from where he stands across the room. He bites his lip, and she smiles reassuringly.   
"Stay safe, please." She implores, and cuts the connection, getting up to lean into Anakin's waiting arms. "I worry." She tells him.  
"It's only natural." He hugs her tighter, and they move to sit on the couch. "Besides, fear is natural, so long as you don't allow it to control you." She smiles.  
"You're very wise, Anakin."  
"Shh, don't tell anyone! You'll blow my cover!"

She looks into his eyes on Geonosis, sees the adoration in them as she breaks her own chains, and uses them to climb, just as his people had done a decade ago. She sees Dooku from here, and remembers exactly how much she'd wanted to cross the room and kill him where he sat mere hours ago. She was calmer now, even when the acklay, nexu and reek come into the arena. A touch of the Force, and she was on top of the pillar in less tan a second. They'd taken her lightsaber, but... Ah, there.  
Anakin lifts an arm to his shoulder, pulling out the small twin blasters strapped underneath his robes. He launches them as high as he can with both hands, and she _catches_ , floating them up to herself, and grinning ferally down at him.

When they face Dooku, it's terrifying. In a different universe, perhaps she would know him only as another cold politician, but here, he's her great-grandmaster. And it would break Master Jinn's heart to see him this way, she knows. Maybe it would be easier to focus if the sight of Anakin lying still on the sand wasn't burnt into her eyes. She isn't expecting it when he hits her with the lightning, and it hurts like hell. It lifts her into the air and races like fire through her body.  
And then she says _no_. She's been hit by lightning before, and the electricity and pain are just a distraction from the burrowing tendrils of pure Dark digging into her, causing the real pain. She tells them no, closes armor around herself and lands on her feet.  
They're evenly matched, as Makashi users, and Obi-Wan's attacks are even less effective than Padme's own.   
He gets away that day, but she knows that she'll kill him someday. She swears it, an oath of blood and fire, for the lives he's taken and the people he's broken.

She doesn't marry Anakin that night, though she considers it. It's too early, even if there won't be a later. There is, a year and a half later, but that's another story. She does go back to Tatooine with him, and they spend two days there before she has to go. To fight in the war, commanding slaves of soldiers. She promises his that she'll do her best to keep them safe, and they part with a single embrace.

The 501st are never quite sure what to make of Senator Skywalker. He's not a _Jetti_ , not a brother, not a general. He comes on nearly every deployment all the same, fighting by their side. He's got a lightsaber from somewhere, two stolen crystals he'd rigged to create a wide blue blade with garish yellow spots. No one knows how he did it, or where he'd gotten the kyber from. No one's sure where he sleeps on the Resolute, either. Some vod from other battalions tried to start a rumor that he bunked down in General Naberrie's quarters. The entirety of Torrent descended on his sorry _shebs_ , and beat the kriff out of him. She was far too respectable to be sleeping with the Senator.   
No one knows what to make of him, true, but he cares about them, with all the fire of Tatooine's suns, and so he's theirs.

When the 501st was given a padawan, Padme handled it well, she thinks. Yes. Very well, she decides, looking at the small form of the Togruta girl lying very still in the bed. She looks so small.   
If their padawan is taken away, the 501st won't be able to handle it at all.   
"Skyguy?" Ahsoka asks blearily, hours later. Padme shoots awake at the nickname, a result of her penchant for misusing the Force to spend her time on ceilings.   
"Snips! You're awake!" She grins, running a hand through her messy hair. It's long enough to pull back now, and Padme's considering dyeing it.   
"...Am I? Huh. Cool." Ahsoka's eyes start to close again. The last sight she sees is her mentor's relieved smile.

"General." Padme looks up slowly from her hands, which held a datapad until Rex had yanked it from her.   
"Captain." She says slowly, politely. Coldly.   
"With all due respect, sir, you need a break. We have a command structure for a reason, and some datawork will do the commander some good." He says, handing the 'pad to a shiny.   
"Boots, I'd like my datapad back, please." She addresses the trooper.  
"No can do, sir. Direct orders from the captain." He replies, ferrying it off. Padme stares after him incredulously.  
"I outrank Captain Rex!" She shouts after him.  
"Please, sir. Just take a few hours. Have something other than ration bars and caf. Get some sleep. Call General Secura, Ahsoka says you're friends. For our sake." Rex has pulled out the puppy eyes, and they don't even nearly compare to Anakin's, but they're effective enough.  
"Fine." She sighs, grabbing her long distance comm unit, and standing.   
"Thank you." He's painfully sincere.  
"Thank you, Rex." She mutters, and he grins happily. 

Aayla answers immediately.   
"Commander Bly spoke to your captain." She explains. Padme grins wryly.  
"Oh, it's _Commander_ Bly now, is it? I thought it was Bly or _Mr. Secura_." Padme grinned, referencing the last time they were on Coruscant together and they'd gotten somewhat drunk, and Aayla had talked quite a bit about him. Of course, it's completely hypocritical of her to tease her friend about this, as she herself had proposed to Anakin and had plans to marry him on Tatooine next time the 501st was granted leave.  
"Shut up." Aayla flushed a deeper shade of blue.   
"Sorry." Padme smirks, clearly not meaning it.  
"Ooh, wait. Guess why Quinlan called me in a panic at a kriffing second hour a tenday ago." She smiles, exposing her sharp teeth. Padme considers it for a moment.  
"Does it have to do with the commander of the Coruscant Guard?" She asks, and Aayla nods, still grinning.  
"Got it in one. So he calls me, sober for once, hiding in a closet, and asks me for romance advice. I stare at him for a minute, and he looked somewhat concerned at the way my voice cracked when I asked ' _What_?'. And he starts ranting about how adorable Commander Fox is, and how he's tried everything he can think of but apparently the man's got duracrete between his ears, and I tell him I can't help there, because I don't have ears, and he glares at me, and continues on about how that just makes him cuter, and finishes with: 'Well your commander is head over feels for you, so you must have done something right.' Just because he is doesn't mean I know how I did it!" She concludes, and Padme takes a minute to stop laughing and compose herself.   
"I don't have anything nearly that good, but I did find out that there's apparently an open competition on who can come up with the best idea for how Rex should seduce Obi-Wan." Aayla's jaw _drops_ , her eyes go as wide as saucers.   
" _No_."  
"Yes." Padme laughs. "He uses it as incentive for training sometimes."  
They gossip for hours, and Rex finds a box of tea and a note in Padme's looping handwriting on his bunk.  
_'This is his favorite tea.'_ It reads. _'I can get you into the temple next time we're all back on Coruscant, if you come up with a good excuse.'  
_He groans and shakes his head; of course she's in on it too.

It's two years into the war, and Obi-Wan Kenobi is sick and tired of the Council's bullshit. They've been arguing for three hours already, the entire time since he's been back on Coruscant, he's mildly concussed, somewhat scorched, and both Master Healer Vokora Che and Stitches were going to hunt him down and yell at him for not seeking medical attention before attending the meeting. The shouting abates momentarily, and he looks up to find Master Drallig talking from Ki-Ad-Mundi's wrist comm.  
"-they have her in sight, but they can't get her down. We haven't identified her, but she appears to be a human Knight or a Padawan Learner-" Obi-Wan stills. Reaching for his yet unbroken training bond with his former padawan, he thought loud and clear: _"Padme Naberrie, if you aren't off the roof of the Council's spire within the next thirty seconds, I shall inform them of the identity of our eavesdropper as well as confirm the rumor that Senator Skywalker accompanies the 501st on their deployments, despite the Council's direct orders against him doing exactly that."  
_

_"As if I could tell him what to do, Master,"_ She thinks back. _" And for your information, I was here to break you out, but if that sentiment isn't appreciated, then I'll just go."  
_Shouts echo from below, and Master Drallig looks alarmed.   
"She jumped off the roof." He says faintly. The entire Council in unison turns to look out the window as whoever their eavesdropper is falls, dark hair streaming behind her. Mace is the only one paying enough attention to detail to catch the bright flickers of color interrupting the brown, and turns his flat gaze to Obi-Wan.

"Is that by any chance your former padawan?" He asks sardonically, the rest still to caught up in the panic of watching Padme fall.  
"I have absolutely no idea why you might think that, Master Windu." Obi-Wan answers primly, surpressing a wince as he shifts and the pain in his head flares again. "Knight Naberrie is currently in the creche, instructing a young group of initiates in Form II." Mace rolls his eyes, and the other masters gasp in unison, muttering to each other as Padme lands in the gardens and disappears. Obi-Wan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Padme blinks awake. She's lying on a cot. Medical wing, from the sweet smell of bacta and the lines of similar berths lined up in rows at her sides, clones with the medic symbol painted in blue on their wrist gauntlets, the only part of their uniform they wear over regulation blacks off the field, for the sake of speed in getting to their patients.   
There's someone at her side, a familiar presence in the Force. Rex, she realizes. She sits slowly, he's sleeping, she can sense, and she doesn't want to disturb him.  
"General!" He straightens, head snapping up.  
"I'm sorry, Captain, I didn't mean to wake you." She says, looking around.  
"It's... it's fine." He's very uncomfortable for some reason.  
"Is everything all right, Rex?" She asks, spotting Hypo hurrying over.   
"Um, I don't know, General." He answers truthfully. "Kix had to run some tests, because your injuries weren't severe enough for a bacta tank, but you needed to stay asleep for the past two days while they healed, and he didn't have records of what sedatives you'd potentially be allergic to. He also did a full scan, because he thought you might have cracked a rib or two. And... He didn't really understand the results." Padme's stomach dropped.  
"Sir!" Hypo arrived next to her cot. "How are you feeling?"   
"Good, all things considered." She answered on autopilot, counting the days. Oh, kriff. "Rex, what did the scans turn up?" Hypo pales, checks her monitor, and rushes off, clearly not wanting to deal with this.   
"...He asked Commander Gree of the 41st to consult his General's padawan, she's a medic, and well, she said..." Rex trailed off, shifting, and looking like he'd rather be facing General Grievous alone than telling her this. "Gree said that her diagnosis-He said you're going to have an ad'iik?" He looks impossibly confused, and she can hear him broadcasting _'Can someone just shoot me, please?'  
_"...Kriff." Padme swore, burying her face in her hands. She'd _known_ she was two weeks late, but they'd been in the middle of a deployment and it had been the least of her concerns, with her men dying around her on a nightmare of a planet with nearly no supplies and half a month left until backup came, and Force, she was going to have a _child_ in the middle of a _war_. And the _Jedi_! Logically, she knows they won't kick her out in the middle of the war, but what about _after_? She _loves_ being a Jedi. "Does Master Luminara know about the tests?" The question is muffled by her palms.   
"Uh, yes, but Kix said they were for a civilian we're treating, so she doesn't know it's you." Padme sighs, then realizes it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because Jedi robes are big, but they aren't _that_ big. "Are you okay, general?" She looks up, and smile wanly.  
"I think so, Rex. Thank you." She needs to think.  
"He's already got five separate plans." Jesse informs her, popping up behind Rex's shoulder. Padme laughs.  
"Ahsoka?"  
"We figured you'd want to tell her." He answers.  
And whatever happens, she's going to be alright, because her family's got her.

"You're _what_?!" There probably isn't a single person on Coruscant who didn't hear Aayla.  
"Shut _up._ " Padme hisses at her, stepping on her toes.   
"No! Who's the father?" Aayla asks, hand drifting towards her lightsaber.   
"...Anakin." Padme says, pulling one of the complicated twists her hair is in today over her shoulder, playing with the long teal strands. She needs to get the yellow redyed soon. It's about three seconds before Aayla's burst out of the closet, striding purposefully at the Temple doors.   
"Where are you going?" Padme asks, hurrying after her.  
"To murder Skywalker." She answers calmly.  
"No!" Padme's strong, but Aayla does two hundred single handed push-ups on each arm with two clones on her back every day they're not in a battle. She keeps moving, dragging Padme along from where she's attached herself to Aayla's elbow.  
"Aayla, he's my husband!" Padme's hauled herself up to cling to Aayla's back, and whisper-shouts in her ear. She freezes, and makes straight back for the supply closet.  
"You didn't invite me to the wedding?!" She shrills affrontedly, if more quietly.  
"I didn't know you had a thing for Commander Bly then, and I know romance isn't forbidden, but there's a ban on marriages, and I'm on the watchlist for attachment, not that I think you'd report me, but plausible deniability, and I thought you knew Aayla! I thought everyone knew! He's not exactly subtle!"  
"Yeah, but we thought-hm, I don't know. You're right, that does make the most sense. But what are you going to do?" Aayla says, getting back to the point, tone heavy with implication. Padme straightens, looking angry and haughty at the perceived slight.   
"I am a _Jedi_ ," She fires, blazing with righteous anger. "We preserve life at _all_ costs-"  
"No, kriff, Padme, that's not what I meant-"  
"What did you mean, then-"  
"With the child." Padme's shoulders slump tiredly, and tears start to leak out of her eyes.  
"I don't know." She confesses. The door opens, and both of them jump. Yoda's standing there, eyes wide. He shuffles over to the shelf, gaze never leaving them, and grabs a box of spare youngling robes, then leaves. 

"Padme, Master Yoda approached me with some concerns the other day. Are they-I didn't believe him, but I said I'd ask-" Padme goes rigid by the side of the room, about to hang up her robes and sit down for tea with her former master.  
"I'm sorry, master," She blurts. "I only found out a couple of months ago and I thought Aayla might be able to help me, I don't know, I have no idea what I'm even going to do with them, and then she asked who the father is and I didn't realize Master Yoda heard us-"  
"The father? Padme, what are you talking about?"Obi-Wan interrupts, and she freezes again.   
"...What were you talking about, Master?" She asks tersely.  
"Master Yoda appears to believe you and Knight Secura are engaged in some form of romantic relationship. Padme, is there something you'd like to tell me?" He replies. Her shoulders droop.   
"Padme?" His tone is almost dangerous now, eyes flooding with some unidentifiable emotion.  
"I'm pregnant." She says simply, and watches him begin to panic.   
Almost involuntarily, as thought acting on instinct, she moves forwards, grabbing her former Master's hand and laying it on her stomach. Pulling at their bond, she tugs his consciousness out of just his own head. He responds reflexively, reaching out in the Force, and freezes.  
"You feel them?" She asks. He nods dumbly. Two tiny sparks of light.   
And then she's in his arms.   
"Congratulations are in order, I suppose." He tells her.  
"You're going to be their uncle, you know."She says. He hugs her tighter.

Padme wakes up to banging sounds in the tiny kitchen in the quarters she unofficially shares with her secret husband. She's exhausted from her last deployment, a little more than mildly concussed, her fractured wrist is still wrapped in bacta, and her entire command structure will be out for her kneecaps when they realize she's not actually still in medical like she's supposed to be.  
Anakin isn't tucked into her side on the berth like he's supposed to be, so she stumbles wearily out to the little main area.   
"Mhn? Ani? What're you doing up at," She glances at the wall chronometer. "This kriffing early." She decides on, the hour nearly nearly giving her a migraine in itself.   
"Angel! I'm sorry, I woke you, didn't I?"  
"S'fine." She yawns, stretching, then looks around the area, nearly every surface covered in drying dishes or at least fifteen different desserts. She spots batuu-bons, Jogan fruit tarts, blumfruit muffins and her absolute personal favorite; Bespin cloud drops.   
"I... made desserts?" Anakin offers her a drop, she bites into it and hums in delight when it melts perfectly on her tongue. She leans against him. "In case human females are also genetically predisposed to kill their partners, like the Kriwetan tooka mutation." Padme nearly spits out her cloud drop. "Just kidding."  
"I'll forgive you this time." She tells him, and tips back into his warmth.

When Padme has dreams of herself screaming, dying in childbirth, begging only for the baby's life, she does the sensible thing.  
She goes to the healers.  
"Everything seems to be in order, but I'd like you to come in for frequent check-ups anyway. You're hardly the first Knight to come to me with this sort of issue, you know." Master Healer Vokora Che informs her casually, examining Padme's test results.  
"No?"   
"Not at all. We must get at least three cases every year. I'm petitioning the High Council to allow me to educate the padawans and Knights, even if it's just a single seminar." The Twi'lek moves smoothly, typing something on the datapad next to her, and then handing Padme a small device and pressing a button.   
"There." She says as the hologram pops up. "Those are your children."  
"Oh." Padme can't seem to speak, staring at the tiny little life forms wavering before her. She knows now, with some bone-deep spark of certainty, that she will-that she _does_ , love them with every fibre of her being.

"My guard acted purely out of defense and desire to fulfill her role, that being to protect her charge!" Anakin shouts from his pod, flanked on either side by a Jedi.   
"She blew the Supreme Chancellor up with a thermal detonator!" The other senator yells back. At this point, Anakin isn't even sure who he's arguing with, only that he's right.  
"After the sleemo attacked my guards with a red lightsaber and lightning! He's a Sith!"  
"And therefore under the jurisdiction of the Jedi! He wasn't attacking her, so it wasn't out of self defense. And he wasn't attacking you either, it was her job to defend you, not her fellow guards!"  
The entire building goes deathly silent at the implication. The man speaking turns a shade of puce, and begins to stutter.  
"Are you saying," Anakin asks, quietly, furiously. "That the Senate, as a representative of the Republic's laws and what we stand for, will not condone the killing of a man who is the essence of everything we were formed to oppose in defense of an innocent life?"  
"N-no, j-just that-" The other senator stumbles.  
"Are you saying that it would have been better for Captain Whitesun to stand to the side and allow a Sith Lord to murder innocent civilians and members of the force under her charge because he wasn't attacking one specific, defenseless person? Is that what you're saying? Are you telling me," Anakin's voice growing louder with every passing word, suddenly dropped to a near whisper. "That because I'm a senator, my life means more in that I deserve someone interfering when I'm in danger, but the citizens of the Republic who would have died without the captain's interference don't?" And there's a silent explosion with his last question, a huge ripple. Then the muttering starts, the yelling. The interim chancellor calls the session adjourned, and Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine turns and strides out, firmly set in his belief that somehow, things will work themselves out.

"I still don't understand why he attacked you." Padme says to her husband as they sit together that evening. She's holding Luke, her recently dyed hair nearly waist-length now, like liquefied wroshyr wood mixed with starbursts. Anakin, next to her with Leia in his arms, decides that he really likes this new color combination.   
"I think it was maybe supposed to be a blow at you? Or Tatooine? I honestly have no idea. Dooku didn't know?"  
"No, and I wouldn't have expected him to. We captured him months before this." She answers, shifting a little. "Give me her, you need to go make sure the stew isn't burning." Anakin grins, handing over their daughter and getting up.  
"You never told me why you made that face the first time I told you I'd made stew for dinner."She smiles wryly, following his to seat herself in a chair closer to the kitchen, baby in each arm.   
"Master Yoda, my Great-Great-Grandmaster, has a rather loose interpretation of things that are edible for human beings. His stew has some very interesting ingredients, and is something I've had the misfortune of having to eat many times throughout my life. " Anakin laughs, the sound silver-bright in the light of dusk. There's a knock on the door, and half their dinner guests flood in when he opens it, Obi-Wan whisks Luke away from his mother to snuggle in a corner, and before it's been five minutes Leia has ended up in Mace's arms, with Depa smirking at him from where she sits with Caleb. This leaves Padme free to greet Aayla and Quinlan, and then, a few moments later, Ahsoka and Barriss when they walk through the door.  
Barriss hands Padme a satchel with the hand that hasn't been claimed by her girlfriend with a quick smile and the words 'Cloud Drops. Ahsoka figured out how to make them different colors.' She's gifted an incredibly happy grin in return.   
Padme's a gracious hostess, happy to turn her children over to the crowd for a few hours while she catches up with everyone. Bant, Obi-Wan's friend, has taken a padawan. He had a test, unfortunately, and couldn't come, but she promises to bring him to the next get together.  
Obi-Wan himself nearly refuses to relinquish his twin the entire evening, and when he does it's only to Rex. Aayla spots the sappy grins the two are periodically exchanging, and whispers something in Padme's ear that makes her smile.  
Qui-Gon Jinn, newer to these events than most of the rest, sits in a corner observing, and occasionally Yoda or Jocasta Nu wanders over to speak with him. He's happy.  
"Mom couldn't make it, unfortunately." Anakin tells Cody when he inquires. "She had business on Tatooine. But Beru and the guard are coming, and Quinlan managed to convince Fox, he tried to tell me how, and I informed him that if he did, Fox would probably make him sleep on the couch. Fives and Echo-"   
From the spark of a friendship, they grew a family, a fire ready to burn away the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic sat at 7k in my drafts for like two weeks and i just decided to finish it. hope you guys enjoyed, and stay safe.


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